Vengeant Migrant
by Dovakaaz
Summary: This is a short story revolved around Mack, a heavily scarred and damaged man from California, who's headed to Nevada to take his own personal form of vengeance from an insufferable amount of pain he's taken.
1. Freeside

_Ten years._

_Ten whole years of my life, wasted on you. All the pain, all the suffering, and all the time I had thrown away to latching and clutching onto you and Sarah... those were the only things I could think of when I sat in the cell. But things are different now. I have been finally left out of my irons, and I am a different man from when we last met. I can survive, I can fight, and I can kill. And that's all you need to know._

_I'm coming for you, big brother._

I put my notebook and pencil down and put it in my pocket, hoping the pencil didn't break and I would have to search another roach-infested building to find another again. I leaned on a wall in a ruined building in Freeside, staring at the charred rat I had roasted on my makeshift bonfire. I had but two weapons; a switchblade, and a 9mm pistol, with only eleven bullets to use. My amount of caps are poor right now, I only have fifty, and that's only enough for me to buy some of the dank food at the stand nearby. I closed my eyes in irritation, and wiped my dirt-covered face with my barely functional left hand, thinking about how my situation could be, and has been worse. I had to refocus; I stared at my left hand; only my thumb and index finger were present, for my other digits had been torn from me. My face was disfigured, burn marks and coated in sand and dirt, though the sand and dirt is common of the people of Nevada. I stopped my thoughts, still feeling the pain and emotions that were built up for so long. My ambitions of vengeance gave me more desire and will to suck it up and survive.

Footsteps were heard coming near me, I presumed it was Lisa, coming from another attempted thievery upon one of the gamblers entering Vegas. I overheard the jangling of bottle caps after seeing her walk towards me, from the entryway to my area.

She approached me, and tossed a small leather bag of bottle caps, smiling at me as she laid it there. "One hundred!" She proudly said, crossing her arms in confidence.

I put my finger before my mouth, signalling her to quiet her mouth. "Shut up, you idiot! Don't publicize the wealth!" I said discreetly.

"Oh!" She sat down near the fire. "Sorry..."

After a moment of silence, I spoke. "Are you sure it's that much?"

"Well, I guessed, but it's somewhere around a hundred."

I sighed, and thought; perhaps if I were alone, I could live off of an extra hundred caps, but I cant get away from Lisa; I've tried before twice. "That wont be enough for the travels..."

"Where are we going to begin with?"

"Primm."

"Well damn, that's gonna be a trip..." Lisa said putting her hands on her hips. Lisa was the sassy, and independent type of woman, with a long head of blonde hair and dark blue eyes, but she was almost in as much as a bad condition as I. "Why didn't you tell me to begin with, Mack?"

"Because I didn't want you following me around to begin with." I said, irritated at her question.

"Yeah, well you still owe me an ass-load of caps, and you haven't paid me back yet. So, I'm-"

"So you're gonna stick around me until I pay you back, yes I know." I interrupted. I owed her a fortune worth of caps for bumping into her in Freeside one week ago, causing her to drop some kind of special bottle cap she had lost in a sewer. She told me it was some rare sarsparilla cap, but I honestly could've cared less.I got up and asked a question, "What time is it?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"I was hoping you knew."

Lisa stared at the sun as it poured it's sweltering heat down on the wasteland. The sun is right in the sky. I'd say... it's daytime." She said, sarcastically.

"If I wanted to hear your smart ass mouth, I'd ask for it."

"And if I wanted to get out of here and not look at your messed up face all day, I would too." She crossed her arms.

I got up from the ground and ignored her remark, it being difficult to do both of them. "Let's start traveling." I said.

"Well, where to first?"

"The Crimson Caravan Company."

"Why There?"

"We use the caps you grab along with mine, so we can get some better clothes, that which don't make us look like bums."

"Then what?"

"Then we head to primm, going straight south."

"I see. And, you're telling me that when we get there, I'll get my compensations?" She asked, getting to her point of the deal.

"Yeah, you will." I lied.

"Alright then, let's get to it!" Lisa said, getting ready for a lot of walking.


	2. Age Ten

I used the rickety broom to sweep out the last of the sand that had blown into the tool shed for the third time this week. The stupid sandstorms had made a mess again. While sweeping the place out, I overheard the sound of all the happiness and cheer that came about from my house as my family and Mark's friends had celebrated Mark's sixteenth birthday. For his sixteenth, Mark was going to get his first real weapon, our dad's rifle. Our dad was a retired NCR ranger, so guns weren't too difficult to get a hold of, and we were somewhat prestigious. We lived in California, on the south side, near a lake where we could freely drink and bathe from. After finishing sweeping out the shed, I ran back to the house, to talk to my friends who I invited to the party.

I entered from the backdoor, and opened the door, to find my friends, family and all, completely surrounded by Mark, as if he were some sort of source of life. I didn't mind, it was his birthday, and he has just gained a huge responsibility after all. Questions were being thrown at him endlessly from everyone, while I just stood there, staring at him and his exposure.

After the questions were finished being tossed, my father noticed me standing, and his smile turned into a frown as well. "Are you done with the shed?"

"Yes, sir..." I said. My father was very strict, and treated us as if we were soldiers, rather than sons.

"Then stay in the shed until you're done."

"Wait, James..." My mother called; She was the more caring one. "He doesn't need to stay there, his friends are still here."

As she said that, I saw Sarah, my personal crush, walk through the crowd. My frown instantaneously flipped to a smile. "Sarah!" I called. Everyone knew I was attracted to her, Sarah included.

"Oh, hey Mack." She replied. Sarah was just as old as I am, only younger by a month or so. She gave me a brief wave, then looked at the rifle Mark was holding in his two hands; A small 5.56 rifle, commonly referred to as a "Varmint Rifle" by travelers. After glaring at the weapon, she gazed at Mark, obviously attracted to him. I didn't mind, until I realized I was never looked at like him; I was never adored or liked ever like him when I had such things. My smile towards Sarah slowly turned into a sudden frown when I had this realization.

"Mack, get back to the shed!" My father suddenly shouted.

My eyes darted to him as he shouted at me."But, why?"

"Mack, I'm not telling you it again!"

I quickly turned around and ran back outside, slamming the door as I ran out. I entered the shed and sat there, sitting in a corner not filled with tools and sat there, begining to sulk off. Father always treated me like this; throwing me out of his sight while he could hold Mark up like he was some gift from god.

The door creaked open slowly, I thought it was the wind, but it was not. It was my mother, coming in and smiling at me as she entered.

"Shouldn't you be busy worshipping Mark like everyone else?" I asked, actually not even being sarcastic.

"Come on Mack, it's his birthday, and he's getting his first weapon, he deserves the attentio-"

"He always gets attention!" I shouted. "People act like... he's so amazing at everything! And-"

"Mack, don't raise your voice at me..." My mother replied with a disciplining tongue. "Now, your father said you're staying in here after slamming the door, and running out, but I'm going to try to-"

"I hate him..." I muttered.

My mother sighed. She gave me a pat on the head and left saying, "I'll try to change his mind."

She left the shed, but there was no returning from her, she could not convince my father to let me back in the house. I stood in there all night, sobbing and crying, with no one to pay me any mind.


	3. Consequence

We came out of the Crimson Caravan Company 100 caps poorer, but with a new set of clothing. I got a nice pair of cargo pants, a white t-shirt, a cap with some goggles, and a knapsack to carry my things in and Lisa got herself the same. After our new gear had been purchased, We had both began to walk down a southward trail to Primm, hoping the directions we got from one of the local farmers nearby were right. The road, much like everything else in the Mojave, was swelteringly hot, partially destroyed, and covered in sand. I had taken the cap I bought off and swiped my hand over my forehead as we walked down the road.

It came to a point to where we were in the middle of the desert, incapable of seeing any thing in the distance, aside from a small pre-war building. We had passed by it to find a clear threat; Someone was waiting for us. 3 men, armed with small pistols and armored with light leathers, ran from around the said build and stuck us up. Lisa in particular, gasped at the sight. we had raised our hands high and stood as still as a corpse.

"Finally we found this damned broad!" One of the armed men said. I presumed these men were after Lisa all along, and were disgruntled at her for a reason, probably thievery.

The most dangerous looking man, sporting a bushy beard and a pipe rifle, glared at me with a fierce frown. "You friends with this bitch?" The rugged man barked.

I was not afraid of his threatening mug: shook my head slowly. "No." I answered.

"Why are ya travelin' with 'er then?" One other man asked.

"She's been following me around, we aren't companions." I explained.

The man squints his eyes at me for a moment, trying to give me a death-like gaze, attempting to detect whether I was lying or not. After his stare, he continues to shout, "Good! In that case, get along. We gotta' score to settle with this thief." The man quickly rams the butt of his rifle into Lisa's stomach causing her to fall to the ground from the impact. The other two run towards Lisa and begin to beat her with their weapons.

I turned around, put my hands back down and walked away from the beating, somewhat forced to hear the sounds of Lisa getting beaten to death. I stopped and turned around again, and looked at the situation; the three men were not feeling any mercy, senselessly beating her. It reminded me of when I too was in the same situation one hundred times over back in the NCR prison. That thought and my sight caused me to develop the urge to save her. I quickly equipped my gun and prepared myself to kill the one man with the rifle, for he was the biggest threat.

I stepped right behind him and pulled the trigger, my pistol's muzzle directly behind his head. His body fell, and the moment the gun was fired, the other men darted their heads towards me; I had to act fast. I quickly leaped backwards and pulled the trigger over and over while blindly pointing my weapon upwards, hoping my bullets would connect with my targets; A quick decision, but a foolish one, for I didn't have a lot of bullets to begin with. I continued to fire my weapon until my gun clicked, telling me that I had lost all of my bullets. I opened my eyes from the blindfire to see that my targets had fallen, luckily. I got up from the ground, and inspected Lisa; She was beaten and wounded, but her body shivered, and shook, she was clearly still alive. still alive. Her long hair covered her face in a mess.

"Lisa...?" I Attempted getting the hair out of her face.

She quickly slapped my hands away from her, getting to her knees, and crawling away from me. She shouts, "I'm fine!" With sobs in between; It was clear she thought she was going to die.

I approached her and displayed a hint of sympathy, patting her shoulder while she cried on the ground, getting her pants dirty. "Lisa... come on, let's go."

"Why did you save me..."

I didn't want to tell her why I did it, so I simply avoided the question, "Did you not want me to save your life or something?"

She hung her head for a brief moment, "You shouldn't have saved me... There are more of them, and they'll find me."

She was right, traveling through the desert with someone with a bounty on her head was foolish. We had to find another traveling method. Conveniently, the men who caught us by surprise were hiding behind a a pre-war building as I said. The pre-war building was actually a pump station, which was good, because a path to the sewers was likely to be inside.

"Well, go in here." I said, pointing at the door to the station.

"What's the point? There's no-"

"We travel by the sewers, to get to Primm, okay?"

After thinking about my idea, She got up and wiped her face of her tears, and nodded her head. At that moment, I cursed at myself for suddenly trying to keep her safe and entered the pump station, but not before looting the three men I had killed.


	4. Age Fifteen

I had just finished repairing dad's radio, after about an hour of working on it. I turned it on and set it to the ncr radio to see that it was working perfectly. I smiled in satisfaction; it was my first thing I had ever successfully fixed. My mother had appeared from my room door and prepared to say something, but as I heard my door open and she came in, I immediately turned around and proudly said, "Got it!"

She smiled at my success, "Good job, Mack!"

"Thanks! I'm surprised I got it fixed too..." I picked the radio up and inspected it, looking at it up and down. "Yep, it's perfect now! Should I show it to dad?"

"You can't, he's still at the firing range with Mark."

I didn't let it bother me, I could always show it to him later. When Mark turned 20, he was then trained to become one of the local NCR guards for the town we resided in. It was very rare to have any trouble here, so it was obvious to me that the only reason Mark was a guard here is so he could be near us, his family.

My father probably never even wondered If I had what it took to become an NCR soldier, or anything for that matter. I was more brains than brawn in everyone's eyes, but I personally thought I was a little bit good at everything; It just happened that tinkering around with machinery was my favorite thing to do.

Mother and I heard the front door from downstairs open, followed by footsteps and the voices of my father and brother.

"There they are!" I had taken the radio, slipped past my mother, and ran downstairs, ready to show it to my father, and rub it into my brother's face.

They seemed happier when I wasn't within their line of sight, or maybe they were just wondering what was with me.

I didn't say a word, I merely held the radio at my father, and he eyed it, with an eyebrow raised. "I'm... guessing you fixed my old radio?" My father said.

"That's right!" I replied.

My father snerked. "Good going, maybe I can get you into repairing weapons soon." He said.

My smiled instantly turned into a skeptical frown when he said that. "What makes you say that...?"

"What do you mean? We need you working in the NCR somehow."

I was heavily irritated at his response. I make my first repair, and all he can think about is the NCR's petty needs.

Mark and Father walked right by me, and up the stairs, but Mark stopped and spoke to me, "By the way Mack, Sarah came to see me while me and dad were doing things. Dad had scared her off, but she kept trying to talk to me." He laughed. "She have a crush on me or something?"

"Shut up!" I impulsively replied.

Mark laughed harder than he originally did and gives me a mischievous wink after he finished his laughter. "Watch your back, Mack!" He walked up the stairs

I clenched my fist at his remark as he left my presence. My feelings towards Sarah had never gone away, even after 5 years of thinking of her as just my childhood crush. I thought my attraction was really genuine. I tried to stay positive and shrugged off Mark's remark; I've done something productive, and I can do even more. I smiled at my radio, as it would hopefully be the first of many things to be touched by my hands.


End file.
